Eternity Arc
by Swordage
Summary: Postmovie AU. What if life surpassed everything? A study in mako poisoning and hope.
1. Continuum

Sephiroth is slow to wake. He's conscious for brief periods here and there, half a sentence floating into his mind in someone else's voice, the knowledge that there is a warm weight on his chest even though he can't feel it. He knows his eyes are open, but he's yet to see; for now it is sound and sensation that slowly, slowly tug him from the sticky cocoon of green around his mind.

It's the cat that does it.

They've put him by the window today, he thinks slowly. He has come to this conclusion after some length of time, based on the evidence he's painstakingly noted. His face is warm from radiant heat; his skin is cooled intermittently by gusts of air; there is a weight in his lap, humming softly. No, purring. It must be a cat, because cats are roughly this size and weight and make that distinctive sound. He tries to remember what one does with a cat, what their purpose is, and gradually it comes to him that one pets a cat.

He doesn't manage more than setting his hand on its back, but the sensation of fur is new and takes time to absorb. When his other senses return, when he's done focusing on the feeling from his hand, there's voices in the midst of speaking.

"...Did that by himself," one says with a tone he recalls is upset.

"The cat sure as hell didn't do it for him," a gruff male says. Sephiroth feels the corner of his mouth twitch. No, the cat didn't do anything.

"I told you," a younger male says patiently. "The recovery takes time. Tifa, you of all people should understand that-"

"I know that!" The first voice is more upset. Sephiroth vaguely wishes his sight would return; he suspects he knows these people, but their voices only tickle his memory in unpleasant ways. For lack of anything better to do, he tilts his head toward the voices, careful not to upset his balance. "But it's been months, and this is the first sign of _anything_. Cloud, you're holding onto-"

A deafening silence for a moment, and then footsteps approach him. Someone kneels next to him. He turns his unseeing eyes toward the sound, using a faint memory to tell him _male, solidly built but slight, carrying something heavy, shorter than me by less than a foot_. He doesn't know how he knows these things.

"You know we're here," the young male voice says with surety. "You're aware of that much, if nothing else." A hand touches his cheek, pushes something light and ticklish away from his face. Hair. The corner of his mouth twitches again, and he lifts his hand off the soft fur of the cat towards where the other face should be. He can't lift his hand high enough - it begins to tremble barely a breath above the arm of his chair - but then a hand is under his elbow, gently supporting him. He doesn't feel his brows draw into a frown, concentrating on this one motion, nor does he hear the female take a breath sharply; he simply reaches out.

He sinks back into unconsciousness the moment before his fingertips touch that face.


	2. Perpetuity

The rain was soft on the roof, a heavy drop that had built up stories above Seventh Heaven falling like a rock every few minutes. Kadaj listened to his own breathing, trying not to sleep. His brothers were wrapped tight around him, and Cloud was a warm sleepy presence in the other room, but there was the other. The other that gave Kadaj dreams not of his own making.

The rain lulled him slowly but surely, so he had no choice but to slide from between his brothers and stalk down the hall. No one was awake; he could hear the chorus of child-snores from the end of the hall, the firm silence of Tifa's rest, the painfully loud ruckus from the guest room Cid stayed in. Kadaj squared his bare shoulders and stood in the doorway to the last room, not entirely sure he dared go in.

"Kadaj," Cloud acknowledged quietly from the shadows. Automatically, he stepped forward; just as quickly he took a step back. "No, come here. I think you need to see him, Kadaj."

"No," Kadaj said firmly. "I can hear him just fine from here."

"Kadaj," Cloud said again. Kadaj looked away, toward the window streaked with wet. The light was rippling over the bed he didn't dare look at. Cloud sighed, stood from his chair and moved toward Kadaj.

"No," he repeated weakly, letting Cloud take his hand. "No," as he was pulled gently toward the bed. "No. No. No."

"Kadaj," Cloud murmured. "Kadaj. Look at him."

He looked.

The rain-warped city lights fluttered over the loose braid of pale hair flung carelessly across the pillow. Sephiroth's eyes were closed, his face gaunt and unhealthy. His hands lay on the blankets, cold and lonely; his breathing was shallow and irregular. Kadaj found his own matching it.

"No," Cloud said sharply, giving him a shake until he gasped. "Kadaj, no. You are not him. You can never be him, because first you are you. Kadaj."

"Oh god," Kadaj said weakly, feeling his knees buckle. He began to laugh quietly, mindful of the children. "What am I doing. What am I. Oh god."

He buried his face against the side of the bed to muffle the mad laughter he could feel bubbling up inside his chest. It was too much, they'd asked too much. There was nowhere to run from himself, from what was inside him. This was it, his brain was going to split right in two and there was no room for Kadaj in Kadaj's head -A hand touched his hair, and everything went still. The shrill sound of his thoughts was quiet; the rain pattered against the roof, ting tap tip, and Cloud breathed anxiously next to him, and Sephiroth _was awake and listening, worried and relieved all at once because yes, this was his child, the child born from his cells in a dish, the child he never held_ and Kadaj jerked his head up and stared at Sephiroth's still, tired face. The slender hand fell from his hair at the motion, thumping limply against the blankets. He took a deep breath, a shaky breath, and looked up at Cloud.

"We'll be alright," Kadaj said softly. "We'll both be alright."

"Good," Cloud said simply.


	3. Ubiquity

Tifa buttons Sephiroth's shirt slowly, letting him rest his hands over hers to feel how it's done. The rising sun falls across his face this morning, and he turns toward it with a little smile, forgetting what his hands are doing; she laughs softly and pats his cheek to get his attention, smiling up at his embarrassed frown. The pink-tinted light falls across his eyes, making his pupils flutter like buterflies. Tifa gets his sunglasses from the table - it's good to see him reacting to light, but it probably isn't good to overdo it. She smiles to herself as she helps him slide them on. These were Cloud's until she borrowed them. He's mysteriously produced another pair since, of course, but it's strange to look at Sephiroth wearing Cid's shirt and Vincent's pants and Cloud's sunglasses. Innocuous is the word she thinks of. Ordinary. She gets out the brush and gently pulls his damp hair from behind his back.

"I was thinking of cutting your hair," she tells him. There's a slight tilt of his head at that. "I wanted to know what you thought of it. I think it's longer than you used to keep it, and it's awfully heavy. I don't know how you hold your head up when it's wet. So I was thinking of cutting it maybe..." She presses the edge of her hand just above his shoulderblades. "Here. It'd be different, hm?"

She waits for his response, patiently brushing. She doesn't mention all the other reasons for cutting it - it would make life easier for all of them, really. Less to wash, to brush, to yank accidentally. So it comes as a surprise when he shakes his head, slow and careful not to pull against the brush.

"No? All right, it was just a-" She cuts herself off as he raises a hand, touching his fingers just below his ear. His hand drops after a moment, and she carefully pulls the brush from his hair.

"That short?" she asks quietly, and he nods. "Are you sure? It would take years to..."

"Tifa." Cloud stands in the doorway, twin blades peering around his shoulders at the tableu. "He's sure"

"...All right." She hands Cloud the brush as she goes to get the scissors; he looks startled enough to make her laugh. When she looks over her shoulder, he's a step closer to Sephiroth. That's as it should be, perhaps. She's already thinking of how different Sephiroth will look, how like Kadaj, what they'll do with the hair - but she suspects she'll never know the answer to that one, and it's just as well. It pains her to think of burning that thick silver rope, so many years of experience and care disappearing into the smoke.

But then, that's reason enough to do it.


	4. Evermore

Mid-winter in Midgar was a wet, grungy affair. Sludge built up on the sides of the roads, spat there by spinning tires. The lower sector's houses had never been built to withstand precipitation of any kind, but the plate had been ripped away when Meteor came; there would be an occassional roar as a house collapsed under its own weight, and silent quick funerals for the nameless, homeless dead afterwards.

Winter was, in a word, miserable.

It was into this that Cloud stepped firmly, Yazoo and Kadaj close behind him and Loz behind them; another silver head rose between them, eyes hidden by darkened lenses. They pressed close enough to hold him up if he tripped, their worried gazes watching every careful step. He didn't stumble. The cane under his hand thudded on the frozen pavement, sliding a little on the ice. Cloud stopped outside the garage and looked over his shoulder. Sephiroth nodded to him, once, and then lifted his face to the sky.  
"It's blue," he breathed wonderingly. "Midgar's sky is blue."

"Yes," Kadaj agreed, not sure why it wouldn't be so. Cloud threw open the garage doors with a bang, making the triplets jump. The four bikes inside had been well-maintained from sheer boredom over the past months and they gleamed in the sharp winter light.

"Let's mosey," he murmured half to himself, smiling a little. Tifa was watching them from the window, and he nodded to her. She waved and smiled back. He swung onto his own bike easily, backing it out to the others. Yazoo moved to one of the others, picking out his own with a small smile to Loz, who hesitantly moved away from Sephiroth to get his own. Kadaj moved away only when Sephiroth gave him a wordless look.

Cloud looked steadily at the sunglasses, knowing this too was a test; he knew just as surely he would pass. The triplets looked on nervously, breathing a collective sigh when Sephiroth carefully slid behind Cloud, tucking the cane under a flared wing of the bike.

"Let's go," Cloud said, hiding his smile in the roar of motor as they raced for the hills, crisp wind lifting around them as they darted playfully around each other in an exhilarating dance. Kadaj threw his head back and laughed, high and bright and clear, and it was for all of them.

This was how it should be.


End file.
